


One Thousand and One

by pokey_jr



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Dark, Dominance, F/M, No Plot, POV Female Character, PWP, Rape/Non-con Elements, probably AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 19:15:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5552057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pokey_jr/pseuds/pokey_jr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sephiroth inflicts his idea of 'fun' on two prisoners brought to him from work camps. One hopes she can interest him long enough to find a way to escape...</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Thousand and One

**Author's Note:**

> It's that old 'Sephiroth needs a wife' plot again, but not really a plot, just a device to facilitate smut writing. Except, this turned out pretty dark, so please heed the warnings. It also makes no sense in terms of the original game--again, I just wanted to write dirty stuff. Not sure how it can be no-plot but also AU? Anyway, I also wanted to portray the characterization of Sephiroth that I like to read, that being one who is anti-romantic and selfish and uncompromising.

In the end, only two of us were chosen out of those selected from the work camp. General Sephiroth himself had shown up at the last minute, prompting the guards to herd us into a semblance of a military formation out of fear.

“Stand still, quit gawking.” They prowled our ranks, smacking some women in the jaw who kept looking around instead of straight ahead.  I was two from the end on the right side of the first row. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the General appraising us with his arms crossed. He looked displeased and tired. It crossed my mind that he might not want to be here either. We were POWs and traitors and spies so we didn’t have much of a choice, but why was someone of his rank here to inspect a selection of female detainees from Prison Camp Sierra-Lima-Oh-Two-One-Seven?

From the slouching and confused whispers of my sisters-in-rags, it was clear that not many of them realized who our visitor was. Even Shaina, my sole friend for the past three months, was fidgeting. I could feel it, more than see it, to my left. Well, I couldn’t blame her that much. She wasn’t smart, and that made her a favorite target of the guards. Most nights she was called into their barracks for their amusement. I was the only one who even bothered to ask if she was ok when she came back, the only one who cared if she reappeared at all in the morning. Tall, blonde, tits had made her a coveted trophy wife before she was implicated in a spy ring—as far as I could tell, she really knew nothing, and was just unfortunate to have a husband who abandoned her when the situation suited him.

“SOLDIER.” The General’s deep voice was loud, but flat.

“Yes, sir.” The sergeant in charge immediately perked up and trotted to the front of the formation.

“The blonde on the end.” I couldn’t see exactly, but I was sure he had indicated Shaina. He paused and let the moment hang over our heads. Whoever was chosen next could be in for either a very good fate, or a very bad one.  “The short one next to her. Dark hair.”

“Me?!” The girl on Shaina’s other side squeaked, half excitement, half fear.

Sephiroth gave her the barest glance of dispassion. “The other one.” His chemical tinted eyes flashed to me and for an instant I felt like a gazelle who had been spotted by a tiger. Maybe if I didn’t move he wouldn’t see me.

“Put those two in my convoy.” He turned on his heel abruptly and headed for the door. As he strode past I caught part of his next instructions. “…dispose of the others, discreetly. I don’t want to read any more headlines about peasants protesting inhumane treatment of prisoners.”

Two Third-class SOLDIERs pulled Shaina and me out of the ranks. Our heads covered with burlap sacks and our hands bound behind our backs, we were trundled into a vehicle of some sort. I could hear Shaina sniffling next to me for a while before I let myself fall asleep on the comfortable leather seats.

***

I came to when I felt myself being wrestled out of the car—at least, I was pretty sure it was a car. It had been such a quiet, smooth ride. The sack was removed roughly and I thought I had the chance to look around, get some idea of where I was, but it was just an underground parking garage. The cadre of SOLDIERs held us by the upper arms and led us into an elevator.

“Penthouse,” one of them grunted, and his colleague jabbed the button so it was backlit.

The elevator itself was spacious and luxurious, entirely opaque black glass and chrome fixtures.  I’ve never been within a mile of anything like it before, as I grew up in a rural village learning how to shoe horses, work leather, and mend fences.  We went up for at least two minutes, until the door opened on an apartment with the same aesthetic as the elevator.

It was beautiful, an industrial space converted to something more comfortable, and appointed with simple furniture in mostly black and white. Tall windows lined the entire stretch of the living room and the open kitchen. The only wall I could see, other than the ones that separated us from the elements, was a glass one to my right, and beyond it another sitting area with some black leafed plants, a fireplace and a TV.  The tall windows, framed with gauzy white curtains down to the floor, were inky black, save for the pinpoints of light I could see through them—were we in Midgar? 

Our guards shoved us in. “Wait here. Don’t sit down and don’t touch anything.”

Shaina nodded, wide eyed. The guards backed into the elevator, the door closed and they disappeared. It was quiet. If we were in the city, none of its noise reached us up here.  I paced a little bit. We still had no clue why we were here. Well, I didn’t, and there was even less of a chance for Shaina.

The elevator door opened again. A team of four old women scuttled out of it. After giving us swift and brisk instructions, they stared at us with owl-like eyes. I did nothing, not intending to be rebellious, but simply confused.  At my inaction, they cut the dirty rags off of us so we were standing in the living room, stark naked, then herded us into a bathroom. Shaina and I were shoved in tandem under a shower, and the tap twisted on. It was freezing. Shaina yelped and tried to get out from under the direct flow but one of the old ladies’ insistent hands pushed her back in. The two of us were pressed together, skin against skin as the water cleansed us of at least three months of filth. The old lady team pawed at us with jasmine scented soap and shampoo. I had never smelled anything so lovely. No one really thought about the deprivations of prison camps beyond food and human rights. Smelling nice wasn’t high on the list but it made me aware again that I had flesh, that my heart beat and my hair got in my eyes.   _ Why were they treating us like this? What had we been chosen for? _

The shower ended just as the water got to the perfect temperature. A thin knee length cotton shift was forced over each of our heads and we were taken back to the living room.

“Now wait,” one of the ladies croaked. Then they left the way they had come.

We stood there for a good ten minutes. I could see goosebumps on Shaina’s arms and it looked like we were just wearing overlong pillowcases.

Finally she asked, “do you think they’ll mind if we sit down?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know why we’re here, but I guess…”

Before I could even trail off, the elevator opened again. He had returned. A thousand stupid questions crossed my mind, at least a hundred of them about his long silver hair—how did he keep it clean? And out of his eyes? I forgot, though, that unlike a prison guard, when I stare, he stares back.

His eyes were not natural but this close I had not expected them to be so entrancing.  The opposition leaders had told us he was a dangerous, intelligent drug addict, using Mako to enhance his abilities beyond any human’s on the planet. They said he was a cold killer, with a dead heart, but the person I saw in front of me was intimidatingly alive. His eyes weren’t dull like a drug addict’s. They glowed.

“Don’t make yourselves comfortable.” He gestured to Shaina. “You first. Follow me.”

She looked from me to him in question. As if I had any authority here. I was beginning to suspect we were in the great General’s personal apartment for a very dark reason indeed.

Without another word he grabbed her arm and began to pull her toward a bedroom we had glimpsed earlier.  I followed, sure that I wasn’t supposed to. “What do you have us here for?”

He didn’t respond.

“We have a right to know. We’re prisoners of war, not someone you just kidnapped.”

After shoving Shaina so she fell back on the large bed, he shrugged off his long black leather coat, exposing an expanse of pale skin. “Undress,” he ordered Shaina. His eyes flashed to me, daring rebellion.

I couldn’t help but set my jaw in defiance. He scared me, easily, and I knew what he was about to do but I just couldn’t believe it would happen to me. Shaina was already naked, compliant. He smirked when he saw her legs already spread for him.

“You had practice with the camp guards?” He mocked her.

“Stop!” I wasn’t sure if I meant stop teasing or stop entirely. I was powerless to affect either one. He  _ had _ to listen to reason—a General of his prowess wouldn’t just use two random prisoners for his pleasure, in his own apartment no less.

He ignored me. “On your knees, girl.”

Shaina was there before he finished speaking. I sagged back against the wall, horrified with myself that I kept watching.  He undid the zipper on his trousers—black leather as well—and pulled out his hardening cock. I gulped, hoping it wasn’t audible.

“You know what to do,” he said to her, almost gently. “Pathetic creature.” 

She nodded and took his length into her mouth, working it expertly. I thought he would tip his head back, like men in the movies did but he gave no indication of pleasure. He didn’t touch her, except once, grasping her head in one hand and moving it at a speed he liked better. I wondered briefly if I could sneak out, if my absence would be unnoticed due to the activities. But—where would I go? Even if I got out of this building on my own (unlikely) I didn’t know Midgar, I would stand out, and they would be looking for me.

“Enough. Stand up.” His voice was deeper than before.

Shaina obeyed, still as confused as ever. Instead of telling her, he just pushed her back onto the bed and climbed on top. His cock was thick and erect and I was at just the right angle to watch him push into her—no preparation. She whimpered, but I thought that was just for effect. From where I was standing he looked big and he had just slid into her easily. I shuddered to think if he did that with me…

He pumped her hard for about a minute, then stopped, still inside. He regarded her, but I couldn’t read his expression. Curiosity? Hatred? Then he put one hand around her throat and I had to cover my mouth to keep from making a noise.

Shaina started clawing at his arms, kicking and flailing and he  _ fucked  _ her, hard pounding. Like he was enjoying it. When he finished, he let go of her and gracefully climbed off the bed, his cock still standing up straight. He fixed me with a look that seemed to be permission, so  I grabbed the discarded shift and brought it Shaina.

“Put that on her and see her out,” he told me. So I did. At the elevator I hugged her briefly. She looked bewildered.

“Are you going to be okay?” She whispered. The General was standing at the bedroom door, watching us.

I nodded, trying not to let her see tears well up in my eyes. “Be safe.”

When my gate to freedom closed, I turned back to him. “Why are you doing this?”

His eyes narrowed in annoyance. In a few steps he was next to me, holding my arm above my elbow too tightly to be comfortable. I tried to pull back but he tightened his grip painfully.

“The less you resist, the quicker this will go,” he advised, and a dangerous smile came to his face.

My heart was pounding. I wanted to cry but the tears seemed to have dried up. “You have no right,” I repeated.

“Undress.” He pushed me towards the bed but I stood up again and crossed my arms.

“No.”

I thought he would fly into a rage but instead, nothing. His face was dispassionate. He grabbed the front of the shift and pulled me towards him so hard I could hear the fabric tear slightly.  

“Was my instruction unclear?”

I shook my head.

“Then do not defy me. Undress.” His voice was low, soft, and held a threat of violence in it, but some baser force compelled me to obey him.

Trembling, I slipped my arms through the holes and pulled the hem up over my head, folded it neatly and set it at the edge of the bed. His eyes followed every one of my movements, making me even more self conscious of the softness of my body. I wasn’t as leggy as Shaina but I was slim, some strength evident in my legs and arms.

He drew close to me, so I could feel the warmth of his skin against my breasts and stomach. I backed away until the bed was at my knees. I sat down on it, pulled my legs up and scrambled further up the bed, but he snatched my ankle.

“Your resistance is pitiful. You must realize it won’t help you.”

I blinked back tears. “You can’t do this,” I repeated, knowing it would do no good. This couldn’t happen. This couldn’t  _ be _ happening. Why me? My mind raced, even at the last second trying to think of an escape, an irrefutable point that would make him lose interest and send me away. “You have no right. When the High Council finds out—“

“I can, and I will, and they won’t find out,” he replied shortly. He smiled coldly and dragged me toward him by my ankle. Suddenly, I was very uncomfortably exposed, my spread legs giving him full view of what was between them. As he perused my body, stroking his cock with his free hand, it occurred to me that he had not paid Shaina this attention. He had barely looked at her, but was certainly taking his time with me.

“Turn over.”

“Wh—“

He flipped me with a rough motion before I had time to protest. Then, I felt his hands spreading my thighs from behind. I was on my stomach and tried to squirm away but he pressed one knee hard onto my left thigh to keep me down.

“Please don’t.” I felt the tip of one finger at the opening of my pussy. It was barely wet. He dipped the finger inside to pull some of the wetness out and leisurely spread it around the opening. Gods, this was going to hurt. It had been at least a year since my last…

Then, the fingers were gone. Nonononono. I buried my face in the soft sheets and try to move again but he had me pinned. The tip of his cock pressed at the hole, and I felt him shift his weight above me, and pressing his hips against my ass, which he seemed to like as a handle. His length did not slide in easily and I whimpered as the full girth of it caused a stretching that was beyond pleasurable.

I didn’t know whether to struggle and kick and scream, or fight every instinct and just relax so he can get it over with quicker. He was breathing a bit heavily as he forced his cock in. He wasn’t exactly taking his time but it seemed like he couldn’t make it go any faster. I whimpered, hoping he wouldn’t move too much; it didn’t even feel like movement was possible, I was too tight.

“I’m surprised.” His voice came from above, and held a hint of mocking amusement in it. He shifted again and I felt his long silver hair fall, brushing against my arms and back. “Out of you and your friend, she looked much more innocent.” He began thrusting shallowly. I said nothing but wanted to scream.

“I should have realized, a woman with her looks would attract too much attention.”

“It’s not her fault,” I bit, clenching unintentionally. He grunted in response, with a particularly deep thrust. 

“Of course not.  A breeze blew her legs open after I said one word to her.”

“That’s not fair.” Tears and frustration converged.  “You know you intimidate most people.”

He sped up, bearing down more of his weight on me through the pounding of his hips. His cock still couldn’t move smoothly, exactly, but the fullness was hitting me in just the right way to produce a dull ache that I didn’t want to acknowledge.

All of a sudden he pulled out and flipped me over again. I was now on my back, and he supported himself above me with one arm. His long hair fell on me softly, pooling at my shoulders and by my sides.

“You’re done already?” I asked dryly, as if I had somewhere else to be.

He hit me hard, not just a slap on the cheek. I tasted blood in my mouth.

“Ah--!” I jerked my hand up to feel my face but he grabbed my wrist in a tight crushing grip.

“You are three holes and a pair of tits from a prison camp. I have been lenient but do not mistake the fortune of your presence here as anything other than passing curiosity.” His voice was low and dangerous.

I nodded. I wanted myself to say something, anything. A retort or an incisive criticism, even just a snide insult but as each one came to me it died on my tongue. There was a fierceness in his eyes that promised to subject me to the dangers of his imagination if I disobeyed him by even one sound. Even though I was second, I was still as expendable as Shaina.

His gaze swept down my body, finally coming to rest at—“spread the lips of your cunt.” He had released my wrist and I did as he bade me. Then he positioned the head of his cock at the entrance and pushed in. It was hardly easier than the first time and I knew he saw me wince.

“When was the last time you were with a man?” He asked. His strokes were more insistent, deeper and faster than before.

I blinked back tears at such a personal question. Even in our current situation it felt odd, even more intrusive. I turned my head to the side just to avoid staring at his chest any longer.

“Look at me,” he demanded.  “I want to see the despair in your eyes.”

I turned back to him, eyes narrowed and leaking from fear and frustration. 

“I ask you again,” he repeated. “When was the last time?” He sounded so calm as to be conversational, save for the ragged rhythm of his breathing that matched each stroke.

“I don’t remember,” I lied. “Over a year.” The second part was true, but I wouldn’t let him have everything from me. My memories were my own.

“Who?” 

“Just— “ I hesitated. “A boyfriend.”

His green eyes flashed and I knew immediately that he could see through my falsehood. I arched up against him, trying to break away, to squirm out of his grasp somehow, but his grip was too tight, his weight too heavy.  “Who? A man of the Resistance?”

I shook my head and kept my eyes focused on his. Training with the Resistance had taught me that any shifting movements, any darting around or trying to avoid a question would be taken as evidence of guilt. He would not have all my secrets in one night. “A lover from my village,” I lied. “A childhood friend.”

His eyes narrowed though he did not challenge me. A minute later he finished inside me, with more passion than he had given Shaina. A quickening of the breath, his chest and arms and stomach all flexing in unison, and he spilled his seed in me. I wondered if I should rejoice or despair at that.  Would it keep me safe or make me stand out more as an object of derision?

He climbed off of me and off the bed gracefully, his cock glistening and starting to droop slightly. I made to do the same, desperately wanting to cover myself.

“Stay,” he commanded. “We will continue when I recover.”

I gaped at him, and almost responded, then thought better of it. My body might have been betraying me, too. There was a faint, sweet pressure starting at the apex of my legs and radiating through my core and I couldn’t quite tell if the wetness leaking from my cunt was just his product, or some of my arousal as well.

It was not even five minutes until the General recovered. This time he took me from behind, pushing me onto all fours on the edge of the bed, and pulling both of us into a tangle on the floor when I resisted and almost put him off balance. From there, on the floor, I had more to focus on. The hard wooden planks were cold and uncomfortable, yet the cold draft seemed only to raise my arousal and intensify the sensation. I knew without looking or touching that my nipples were stiff peaks and that my cunt was now sopping wet, still tight around his cock, but yielding, swallowing his length with each stroke. Worse, I knew he could feel it too. He was more careful this time with his rhythm, matching it to what he felt. He steadied himself with a large, firm hand on the curve where my neck met my shoulder, and slipped his other hand around, underneath… His fingers rubbed insistent patterns on my clit, I told myself I would have tried to struggle away but his grip was too strong. No… it felt good. All I could do was clench around him and hold my breath  until I gasped at what I couldn’t stop.  Fuck it all, he knew exactly what he was doing, pulling me closer to the edge until I had no choice but to jump with him.

I would not moan, would not give him that satisfaction. 

“Tell me you’re not enjoying this,” he said mockingly. I tried to buck and squirm away but he held me in place too tightly. “Do that again.” He sped up both motions and I gasped, trying to fight the tide as I felt myself coming. He gave a slight moan as I clenched around him and damn him it felt so good, a warmth radiating from my core out and back. I bit my tongue to keep from making noise but it was too much. 

“Gods take you,” I bit out, meaning to yell but it was more of a whimpering moan. I went limp and slumped forward as soon as his pleasure had taken him and he let go of me. He stood up as though we had only been having a casual conversation and walked into the bathroom.

Would he make me go again? No. He returned with two damp, warm wash cloths and after picking me up and putting me back on the bed, wiped off my still-sensitive cunt. He then used the second towel similarly on himself, tossed them both into a hamper in the closet, and finally lay down on the bed next to me.

I waited for as long as I could stand, wondering what would happen next, if I could even ask him anything without fear of his retribution.

“Can I go now?” I blurted out.

He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at me. “Go where?”

“Uh…”  Good question. 

“You thought I would just let you leave after this?” He chuckled darkly. “Even putting you back in the camps is too risky—you might get a chance to tell someone and my bloody PR handlers wouldn’t like that.  And lifelong solitary is costly. Either way, I am told I should take a wife in order to soften the public’s opinion of me.”

“They don’t like you?” I asked dryly. It was well known that he was a war hero, albeit an eccentric one. Kids and conservatives idolized him but the older folk in the villages that had been raided by Shin-Ra years ago still remembered him for razing their fields and slaughtering their animals, then telling them to thank him for it. Now the company was struggling to rebrand its image as a corporation that cared about the people and wanted to rebuild and repair the damage they had caused. Of course I knew all this, and of course it was a ruse.

His eyes narrowed.  “I require a wife, not a wisecracking rebel whore.”

I wanted to shoot back that I had never solicited myself for sexual services, but held my tongue. If he actually thought I would meekly comply with this scheme, he was sorely mistaken, however I was smart enough to know that lashing out all the time would never give me a chance to escape. 

“We will wed in six weeks,” he continued. “I believe you are a trouble maker, but that you can be reasoned with. I hope you don’t prove me wrong.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly feeling a chill in the room. I was still naked.

“You may get under the covers,” he prompted, getting off the bed and throwing back the neatly folded slate blue sheets.

“Thank you.” I got under the covers and scrunched as close to the edge of the bed as possible. Sleep did not come quickly and I was too scared to get up in case he wasn’t a deep sleeper. I listened to his quiet breathing and waited for sleep to come.

**

The next day passed in a blur of instructions, rules, and getting fitted for a new wardrobe. Apparently Shin-ra’s PR guys had a very specific look in mind, so the only input from me was my measurements. The General watched it all with his arms crossed and a frown creasing his forehead. I could easily guess that he was bored with this waste of time, but I realized later when they had left and he methodically straightened cushions on the couch and wiped away invisible handprints from every surface, that he despised visitors in his most private sanctuary.

He told me that my only daily task would be to have dinner prepared in the evening, which I balked at, and received a dangerous glare for doing so, but no corporeal reprimand. After showing me the library, apparently to be my only source of entertainment during the day, he retreated upstairs (an area expressly forbidden to me) and did not reappear until the seamstresses returned that evening with armfuls of clothing, all of it nicer than I had ever owned or worn before. They moved with efficiency, hanging all of it in an empty closet in the bedroom. 

Sephiroth directed them to leave a skirt and blouse out for me, along with plain undergarments , but no one had thought to ask for or offer shoes, so I padded around barefoot for another couple hours until another person returned with a trolley cart stacked with shoe boxes. I thought several pairs would be chosen for me but evidently they were  _ all _ for me and they all fit in the closet. The number of items in my wardrobe currently now exceeded all of my cumulative possessions before I had been inducted into the resistance—admittedly not much, but still… I wondered if I would even be with the General long enough to wear each thing once.

He selected a pair of delicate silk slippers for me to wear for the rest of the night and sent another message to have dinner brought up for us. It was too late to cook anything, and approaching twenty-four hours since Shaina and I had first been herded up here. Perhaps last night had been a rare exertion for him. He was rumored to be a god, after all, and gods tended not to trifle with mortals like me. But no. Of course he wasn’t done with me. After we finished eating, him methodically and me like a starved dog, he cleared our plates from the table. I stayed seated, wishing I could retreat to that library he had invited me to explore.

“Come,” he bade me, walking to the couch and seating himself elegantly. I did as commanded, and with a last glance out the window. The sun was just setting over Midgar, the sky a burning streak and the buildings brought to low silhouettes. The colors would soon reverse, the expanse of the sky would darken and the city would light up in a teal glow from the Mako energy plants.

I didn’t know what else to do except kneel in front of him on the carpet. Sitting next to him on the couch seemed like it would be presumptuous. But my gesture got a bit of laugh out of him.

“Stand up.” His mouth crooked up in a half smile. “We’ll get to that later. For now… undress.  _ Slowly _ .”

Again, I was at a loss. Did he want to me to be sexy? Do a striptease or something? I wasn’t going to ask, of course. Don’t want to give him ideas. So I just went button by button, starting with the blouse, the skirt, my underwear. Why wasn’t I as scared as last night? I still didn’t want to do this but somehow in the space of one day I had become resigned. No-- not resigned, I corrected myself mentally. I couldn't just  _ accept _ this, but I could be calculated in my actions. I could get something out of this, intelligence that would be impossible for the Resistance to obtain otherwise. I just had to escape and make it back... and not anger the General or arouse suspicion.

He watched impassively through the entire show until I stood in front of him completely naked. His eyes flicked from my legs, up to my shoulders, to my stomach, finally to my face. I had looked in the mirror in the bathroom this morning and knew my features were still sunken from months of food and sleep deprivation. What did he see in me that made me more appealing than Shaina? It couldn't be looks alone.

I met his vibrant gaze, knowing my eyes were dark and hollow. I held my breath, waiting for the next twist of his whims, determined not to flinch or look away. He leaned forward slightly and touched his fingers lightly to a scar on my outer left thigh.

"What was this from?" He asked.

I almost lied to him. I wanted to, but thinking he may already know and was testing me, told him, "the day I was captured. I was running and a shot caught me in the leg." Otherwise I would have gotten away and I wouldn't be in this nightmare.

He went over the rest of my body methodically, touching each bruise and scar, asking about each one and where and how I'd gotten it. A few of the bruises were still tender, reminders of the previous night.    
  


"And how did you get these?" He asked, touching the purple and yellow marks on my arms and wrists gently. I could hear the smirk in his voice. 

"You." I yanked my hands away instinctively but he caught them.

"Do not test my patience," he warned before moving on to another part. 

At last he came to my neck. Now standing next to me, his height made him tilt his head nearly sideways to inspect the faded scar that ran from under my right ear, following my jawline. It was about six inches long and ended just past my chin. Hardly anyone ever noticed it anymore, which spared me from having to tell the story very often. Three years ago, when it had been fresh, recounting the tale had grown tedious very quickly.

"Someone wanted you dead?" He asked. I was surprised to hear the dark humor in his voice. So far his personality seemed to bounce between cruel, dreary, and strict, with no room for any lightheartedness.

I considered telling him it was self-inflicted but reckoned I had better not, unless I wanted him child-proofing the apartment. "Your SOLDIERs. They raided my hometown one night and broke into my gran's house. I was sleeping in the loft of the barn that night so I heard the noise and smelled the smoke from them burning other houses before they could get my gran's house. But... I snuck in after them. They didn't set fire right away so I think they were planning to loot some things first-- she had a nice house."

At that memory a lump caught in my throat. I loved that house. I grew up in it, around it, took care of it thinking I would one day grow old there like my gran had.

"Th-they... I went in to save her but they saw me." I choked. The tears welled up and I looked all over, anywhere except his face. Should have just let him beat it out of me.

"Continue," he prompted, stroking the scar on my chin with his thumb. His eyes gleamed with a strange excitement.

I couldn't. I tried to turn my head away but his hand held my jaw firmly facing him. "Ah...I...they beat her to death with the butts of their rifles. I tried to fight them and told them to get out so they held me down and-- and..." I closed my eyes and wiped some of the moisture away with my bare hand.

Meeting his eyes again, I continued. The rest of the story I remembered more vividly, and it gave me a savage happiness to tell him, of all people: "after one SOLDIER beat her he cut my throat halfway with his bayonet. But... I guess my gran wasn't all the way dead yet because someone double tapped him in the back of the head with a .45." I paused here.

"Should I tell you about how his blood and brains and shards of his skull hit me and the other two SOLDIERs in the face?" I asked. "That one bullet went through the back of his head and out his left eye and broke a vase on a table behind us? I heard it shatter." My heart was racing. I could still picture the whole sequence, scene-by-scene, in my mind, down to the room's illumination from the flickering light outside of other houses burning.

"I've seen plenty of death and gore," he replied quietly. "How deep was the cut from the bayonet?"

"I don't know. Not enough to sever anything major." I waited for the next question, but it didn't come. He released his grasp on me, turned and sat down on the couch.

"Don't you--" Why did I want him to ask me? Everyone asked. How did you get away from the other two SOLDIERs? Did your gran make it?

"Don't I--what?" He narrowed his eyes.  "Want to know how you escaped? Killed two SOLDIERs? Comforted your dying grandmother and wept over her corpse? I don't need details; you've provided too many already in this maudlin debacle." 

He paused. I had no idea how to respond to this other than sigh and roll my eyes.

"I will say I was expecting something more...titillating," he added in a tone which I suppose for him was a wry one. But to my ears there was a hint of rawness in it, of the obscenity he enjoyed practicing on me. I cast my eyes down. The adrenaline was fading quickly and I found that at this moment, I didn't really care about much anymore... In one moment he had reminded me both of the nice life I had and how it had been taken away. The few years after that night had been, for the most part, just as cruel, but with the added indignity of feeling like an outcast, homeless, always hungry, and hated by the world at large. High minded ideals of nationalism and self determination had somehow landed me here.

"Sorry to disappoint," I said quietly. 

He looked at me strangely for a moment, as though he could sense my change and attitude and then ordered: "Kneel."

And I obeyed.

It was not until several hours later that I reflected how calming it had been to simply...obey. I knew the routine of following orders from the militaristic structure of the rebellion's command but this was more intimate, gave me satisfaction in a way. The commanders never gave us any praise or appreciation, verbal or otherwise, for doing as they said. How odd was it, then, to be in The General's own living room and hear commendation from him, to feel his pleasure as he stroked my hair. To smell the arousal emanating from him and taste the faint salt on his warm skin. With my lips wrapped around his shaft I looked up at him, eyes wide. In return he gave me such a brief smile and for a moment I reveled in it.


End file.
